


The Right Kind

by Grigiocuore



Category: Psych
Genre: Drabble Sequence, M/M, Sappy Ending, Shawn dealing with being human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 05:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4335638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grigiocuore/pseuds/Grigiocuore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a Sentence Prompt on Tumblr: "I need you."</p>
<p>Henry sighed and touched his hair again. "But then a little bunch will come, that'll take such a big part in your world you'll just have to need them. And you won't be able to change that and it'll be annoying as Hell. But it's human. You can do nothing but take it. And hope they're the right kind."<br/>"What kind?" Shawn asked.<br/>"The one that needs you too, Shawn."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Kind

**The Right Kind**

It was something Henry told him when he was still pretty young; twelve or somewhere around that. Pope walked in the kitchen, sat by him and patted his hair. Shawn wouldn't know it before years, but that was the day Henry signed the divorce forms. 

"Don't need people in your life, Shawn." He said. "People think it's such a romantic thing to say, but they're wrong. It's horrible. It's confusing and messed and not necessary. No, you can do perfectly fine without needing other people. You'll expect less things from them. You'll be freer." 

Henry sighed and touched his hair again. "But then a little bunch will come, that'll take such a big part in your world you'll just _have_ to need them. And you won't be able to change that and it'll be annoying as Hell. But it's human. You can do nothing but take it. And hope they're the right kind." 

"What kind?" Shawn asked. 

"The one that needs you too, Shawn." 

* 

The first time Shawn said it they'd known each other for three months and Lassie was overly pissed. With the world and more specifically with him. 

"C'mon, Lassie. You know it's the right thing to do." 

"Nope, Spencer. You widely demonstrated you did not need officers' help anyway, didn't you-'" 

"I don't need officers' help. I need you. Your help, Lassie". 

Carlton looked up and stared at Spencer's grin. He sighed. 

"Oh, the Hell. All right." 

Lassiter was absolutely sure he was lying. 

Shawn, on the other end, was not so sure. 

* 

The second time Shawn said it without smiling and Lassie didn't hear it because someone had shot hom through the ribs. 

"I need you, Lass. Come back. Haunt me. Whatever." He brushed his forehead and whispered many more gentle words in the half-shadowed hospital room. 

Gus was coming back from the cafe. He heard everything. He understood and rested his head against the doorway. 

"Oh damn, Shawn." 

* 

The third time it was Summer. They had been together for roughly a year. Santa Barbara July slided on skin like honey and the backyard smelled of sea and hot concrete, and Henry's pickup had decided to collapse in time for their Sunday visit. 

"Lassie, c'mon. Help me. I need your strong tough biceps here." 

"It's just a pipe to change. You can do it yourself." 

"That's not true. You're much more bulkier." 

"You're lying." Henry called from the deck-chair. "He weighs as much as an umbrella, Shawn." 

"No one asked you _anything_ Pope. C'mon, Lassie-face. I need you here." 

Henry watched as Carlton sighed and bent under the car to help his smartass son. Ah, two kids, two lofty, competitive kids. But at least they were useful. And it was still the least amount of criticisms he'd ever had for Shawn's relationships. Henry grunted, scrolled through Fishing Weekly. Dozed off. 

He jumped up upon hearing a horrible shriek and the most articulated Irish curse of the world. 

* 

The fourth time he didn't say it. They had argued, and it had been nasty, and it had been nastier because one of them said maybe Victoria was right. He was also pretty sure it had been him saying it. _Shawn you're a dick_ , he thought to his smoothie. 

He waited two more hours before calling home. Lassie answered right away. 

"What do you want?" 

He had his Mildly Moping Voice. Shawn could almost see him, scowling at his phone, stiff shoulders under the SBPD jumpsuit. He closed his eyes. 

"I. Are you very angry?" 

"Yes." 

"We've messed it up, mh?" 

" _You_ have, Spencer." 

"Lassie, I know, but." C'mon, idiot, tell him. You've said a million words, it's just a word, just one, for God's sake. Shawn swallowed. Looked away. Didn't say it. "Can I bring breakfast tomorrow? I'll buy muffins." 

Lassie didn't answer for a long moment. "Chocolate chips muffins, Spencer." 

* 

Shawn was not sure how he found himself there. There had been the cop's call, a rush to the hospital, a doctor putting together absurd words like "your father" and "severe shot wound" and suddenly he was standing in a IC corridor with his phone in a hand and a hole eating his chest. 

_They shot Pope_ , he thought. _Pope could be dead._ His legs decided he needed to sit. He was calling without even knowing it. 

The answering service caught him off guard. He actually had no idea what to say. 

"Ah, Lassie, I. I'm in hospital. I'm fine, and Gus too, so." The joke died on his lips. The hole felt bigger. "They shot my Dad, Lassie. It's bad. I'm fucking scared and, I." He swallowed. "I need you to get here." 

At some time he had started to cry. He didn't give a damn. 

"I've never needed anything in my life. Ever. Needing something means you can't live without it. You can't function in the same way. You can't leave it if it becomes hard. And there is nothing, nothing that scares me more than this. But I fear I need you, Lass. And truth be told, I don't care right now. So would you come because I feel shitty and it's all a mess and I. _Please_." 

He dropped the call and curled up, holding tight the chair's edge. He drifted in cold. He almost didn't recognize the steps clacking down the corridor until they stopped by him. 

"Shawn." 

Shawn looked up and his heart burst out. He sniffed miserably. " _Lassie_." 

"I've come as soon as possible. O'Hara told me and-" 

That was enough. Shawn shot forward, without a word, hugging Carlton's waist hard enough to throw him off balance. 

"Oh fuck. You're here. Oh fuck." 

"Of _course_ I am here, you klutz. What do you-" Lassie shut up and contented himself with rubbing his back. They both were terrible at emotional talking; words were great to bicker and argue, but not to comfort. They were working out a new plan together. His voice rumbled against Shawn's cheek. 

"What do you want for me to do, Shawn?" 

"Just, stay here. Let's just sit here and wait. Okay?" 

"Okay." 

They did just so. Lassie gently untangled himself from his hold, took a chair and composed his gangly limbs in it. Shawn rested his head against his shoulder. He squeezed his knee. Somewhere in the distance the speakers called a poor soul named Doctor Frizzle. 

"You need something else?" 

Shawn closed his eyes. Lassie felt warm, breathing softly on his hair, and smelled of summer sweat and clean shirts. _The right kind, Pope._

"Not at all." 


End file.
